Her Father's Daughter
by Alyssa Blackbourn
Summary: Neal is hiding something. Peter knows it. But he had no idea just how big the secret he was hiding would be...or how deadly. Neal Wumpage. Please review. Continued in "Friends Bring Out the Best"  Otherwise complete.
1. Jessica

Neal paced back and forth in his room as the sun rose high in the sky on Monday morning. It was about seven in the morning, and he knew he should be at work with his partner, FBI Agent Peter Burke, but he wasn't in the mood. Peter had called about a dozen times. Neal ignored his phone.

Just then he heard a knock on the door. Thinking it was Mozzie, he was quick to open it. Instead of his balding friend, however, Peter was standing in the doorway. Neal sighed and, seeing no other choice, moved aside to let Peter in.

"Something wrong with your phone?" Peter asked.

"Not now Peter," Neal sighed.

"We have a case," Peter told him.

"I'm sick," Neal lied.

"You look fine to me," Peter said. It was only half true. There were dark circles underneath Neal's bright blue eyes. His hair stuck up at odd angles. He was wearing sweat pants and a t-shirt, a rarity for him at this time of day. "So what's really going on?"

"Nothing, I told you. I'm just not feeling good," Neal said, turning his back on his partner. He sat down at the table, his eyes going out of focus.

Peter paused, looking his partner up and down. "You know I can help you, Neal, right? You can trust me."

Neal looked up at him. "Yeah, Peter. I trust you. But I'm telling you the truth, ok? I'm not feeling good. Haven't been since Friday."

"Neal, I know you well enough to know that's not true," Peter sighed.

"Yes, Peter, it is. Now can you please go so I can get some sleep," Neal stood up, walking around, his back to his partner.

Peter sighed and looked down, his eyes glancing over the kitchen table. It was then that he spotted the photograph. It was the smiling snapshot of a little girl with blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a cute smile. She looked very familiar, but Peter couldn't put his finger on it. He quickly whipped out his cell phone and snapped a picture of it. He sent it to Diana, asking her to try and find out who it was. Then he looked at Neal.

"Alright, fine, Neal. But if you need anything, just let me know."

"You got it," Neal agreed, turning around but not really looking at him. Peter nodded at him and quietly left the room, heading downstairs. He was determined to find out what Neal was hiding.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Two days earlier…<strong>_

* * *

><p><em>Neal entered the house, led by Rebecca, a girl he had dated a few years back. She had been waiting outside his house when he came home. She told him that he had a daughter, showed him a picture of her and her birth certificate. It listed him as the father. Not only that, but there was definitely an undeniable resemblance.<em>

_Neal looked around. The house had a warm, welcoming feel. There were pictures everywhere._

"_Well, make yourself at home," Rebecca said, trying to keep the stress and worry out of her voice. It wasn't working. "Jessica's room is through there," she said, motioning toward a door on the right. Neal hesitated, then walked over to it and pushed it open._

_The room was not what he expected. It was a pale blue, with pictures everywhere. There were detailed drawings mixed in with photographs. He smiled at the sight. Not bad for a third grader. He walked around the room, taking in the sights. There were trophies in every spare bit of shelf space, for soccer and piano. He saw pictures of her in her games, at recitals, at birthday parties, and hanging out with friends. Her sketches were amazing, full of detail and life. If the picture hadn't confirmed that she was his child, this definitely did. She reminded him of himself._

"_She drew that one in art class in first grade," Neal jumped when Rebecca suddenly appeared in the doorway. "After that, she just started drawing more and more outside of school."_

"_First grade, huh?" Neal asked when he recovered. Rebecca nodded with a smile. Neal smiled, too. "She's her father's daughter," he said softly._

"_Yeah, she is," Rebecca agreed, struggling to keep it together._

_Neal spotted a picture on the bedside table and walked over to it, picking it up. It was a picture of him and Rebecca in the park where they met._

_Rebecca saw him looking and smiled. "I told her about you," she said. "She knew everything, who you are, what you did…But she knew you were a good man. Every year, she blows out the candles on her birthday cake, and someone always asks her what she wished for, and the answer is always the same. She says 'I wished I would meet my daddy before my next birthday'." Her voice started to crack at the end and Neal turned to her. Tears welled up in her eyes. Neal put the photo down and walked over to her, wrapping her in a hug. She sobbed into his shoulder. "I want her to have another birthday, Neal," she said, her voice muffled by his shirt._

"_She will, Becky, I promise…" He rubbed her back comfortingly. After a minute, he pulled away. "Now what exactly happened? You said Jessica was missing…?"_

_Rebecca took a moment to compose herself, wiping her eyes and nose. Then she nodded. "Her school was off today, so she went to a piano lesson around eleven this morning. Her teacher is just down the street, so I let her walk there, just like every day. She called to say that she made it there, but she never came home. She didn't answer her cell phone and her piano teacher said she left on time."_

"_Did you call the police?" Neal asked. Rebecca shook her head._

"_I was going to, but then the doorbell rang, and Jessica's piano bag was on the porch. Inside were her normal books, and an envelope with a note saying that if I called the police they'd kill Jessica. And then it said that if I ever wanted to see her again, I'd find you and give you this," Rebecca picked a large envelope up from the bed. Written on it was Neal's name, nothing else. "It said instructions were inside."_

_Neal took the envelope from her. He would open it later. He smiled reassuringly at her. "I'll take care of this, Becky. If I have anything to say about it, Jessica will have a lot more birthdays to look forward to."_

_Rebecca nodded shakily, and Neal pulled her into another hug…_


	2. Best Friends

Peter sat back in his chair, blown away by the information displayed on his computer screen.

"What is it, Peter?" Diana asked. Ever since she had identified the little girl in the photo he sent her, he'd been glued to the computer.

"The little girl, Jessica Brooks? She's Neal's daughter," Peter said in disbelief.

"What?" Diana asked, thinking she might have heard him wrong.

"I found her birth certificate. Neal is listed as the father," Peter insisted, his eyes not leaving the screen.

At that moment, Jones came through the door. "Hey, Peter, sorry I'm late. Some guy rear-ended me on my way in. I had to get my car towed. Then the cab got caught in traffic," he said, a little out of breath.

"Neal has a daughter," Diana interrupted.

"What?" Jones asked, equally confused.

"Yeah. Her name is Jessica Brooks," Diana confirmed.

"How did we miss that when we were looking for him?"

"I don't know, but we did."

"Why didn't Neal tell us?"

"I don't think he knew," Peter said finally.

"Where is he?" Jones asked, looking around.

"Home, sick."

"Seriously?"

"No, I don't think so," Peter sighed. He printed out everything he knew about Jessica and stuck it in a folder. Then he picked up his coat. "I'm going to go talk to him. Give me a call if anything comes up." With that, Peter left the office.

When Peter knocked on Neal's door, he didn't get a response for a long time. He was about to knock again when it finally opened.

When Neal saw Peter standing there, he sighed. "What now, Peter?"

Peter held up the file, "Jessica Brooks."

Neal got visibly paler. He looked like he just saw a ghost. When he recovered, he grabbed Peter's arm and pulled him inside, closing the door quickly behind him. "How the hell do you know about her," Neal growled under his breath.

"Her picture was on the table. Her third grade class posted their class pictures online." Neal turned away from Peter as he spoke, running his hands through his hair. "That's how we found her. Then we pulled her birth records," Peter tossed the file onto the table. "She's your daughter."

"Damn it, Peter, why couldn't you just stay out of it?" Neal growled.

"Hey, Neal, it's no big deal," Peter said, surprised at his friend's anger.

"You have to get out of here," Neal said, turning around and almost literally pushing him towards the door. "Now."

"Hey, Neal, hold on," Peter said, turning and ducking out of his way. "What the hell is going on that you're not telling me?"

"Peter, I am begging you. Stay out of it, ok? I'm handling it."

"Handling what, exactly?"

Neal paused, seeming to gather himself. "Nothing, Peter. Look just please, let it go."

"I can help you, Neal."

"Not this time."

"Damn it, Neal, what is going on?"

Neal sighed and sat down on the couch. "Peter, I am handling this. I don't want or need your help."

"Why would you need help at all?" Peter challenged. Neal was silent. Peter sighed and took a seat next to his friend. "Neal, whatever is going on, you can tell me. I don't care what you did or how bad it is. I won't even lecture you. But I can't help if you don't tell me."

"You can't help anyway. I'm on my own this time. And what you could do, I know you won't," Neal muttered, his eyes fixed on the ground.

"And how do you know for sure?"

"Because I know you and you're a good person. And you're in the FBI."

"I'm also your friend."

"I know that."

"So tell me what's going on."

"It's nothing, Peter. I swear." Even though he was a master liar, Neal knew Peter would call his bluff. He was off his game.

Peter looked at him skeptically. Before he could reply, however, Neal's phone buzzed on the counter in front of them. Neal quickly snatched it up, standing up and walking around the table to stand in front of the kitchen table. He took a deep breath and answered.

"Mozzie," he said, clearing his throat. "Did you get it?"

"No," his friend replied. From the couch, Peter noticed Neal tense up in alarm and frustration. Neal sighed hopelessly.

"Why the sudden need for money?" Mozzie asked.

"It's complicated, Moz. I'll explain it all later. Keep trying, ok? I owe you."

"Yeah, you do. If I do this, I expect full reimbursement from you the second you're off the feds' radar."

Neal cracked a smile in spite of his stressed panic. "You got it Moz. I'll talk to you later."

"Bye."

Neal hung up and turned around to find Peter staring at him strangely. "Got what?" He asked curiously.

"What?" Neal asked, pretending not to know what he was talking about. Peter didn't fall for it.

"You asked Mozzie if he got it. What's it?"

"Oh, nothing." Neal shrugged. Peter sighed.

"Ok, Neal. If you don't want to talk to me, that's fine. But just know I'm not leaving until you do." Peter said firmly.

"Peter, trust me, that's not necessary," Neal said, rubbing his eyes absently.

"Yes it is. I know something is wrong. You're wearing sweatpants at four in the afternoon, you look like you haven't slept in weeks, you're on edge, and you turned white as a sheet when I mentioned Jessica…" He sighed. "I'm just worried."

"Well that's sweet, Peter, but really, it's nothing. I just found out about Jessica, and I'm trying to sort it all out in my head, that's all. I mean, for the love of God, a girl I haven't seen in over eight years just showed up at my house and told me I have a daughter. It's going to take a while for me to process that. It's a lot to take in, you know?"

Peter nodded. There was a pause. "Are you excited?" he asked finally.

Neal smiled slightly. "I didn't think so at first…I mean, I kept thinking of all the ways I would screw up her life just by being a part of it…but…yeah…I think I am…"

Peter nodded with a smile. He still wasn't sure if Neal was telling the truth, but he gave a valid explanation, so he decided to give him a shot. He sighed and got to his feet. "Call me if you need anything, Neal. I mean it."

Neal nodded sincerely, and Peter left the room. Neal watched from above as he got in his car and drove away…

* * *

><p>It was after midnight. Mozzie hadn't been able to come up with the money for Jessica's $1.5 million ransom in time, so as Neal walked toward the drop site he had been texted the address of, an old abandoned warehouse, he prayed to God that his backup plan would work. Inside the duffle bag that was supposed to be holding a ton of cash, there were a bunch of phone books. He hoped it would buy him enough time to get Jessica and get the hell out of there. If not…<p>

Neal shoved the thought from his mind. He was across the street from the warehouse. The street was deserted, a rarity for New York. He took a deep breath and started to cross the street. About half way across, though, a beeping sound made him stop and look down. The light on his tracking anklet was yellow. He was at the edge of his radius. He took a step back and the beeping stopped, and the light returned to green.

Neal paused, debating his options in his head. If he went to the drop, the cops would show up in just a few minutes, and that could get Jessica killed. Not to mention he would go back to jail. For good. But if he didn't go, she would definitely die.

He sighed, knowing he had no choice. He took a deep breath, then started across the street. His anklet beeped in protest for a moment, then went silent. The only reminder that he was out of bounds was the glaring red light. When he reached the door, he didn't hesitate before pushing it open, knowing he didn't have much time. If he went to jail for the rest of his life, he wouldn't care, but only if he was able to make it so Jessica got to go have a normal life first.

The warehouse was pitch-black except for a few bare light bulbs hanging from the ceiling. Neal glanced around warily.

"It's good to see you again, Neal," a voice to his left made him jump. He turned to find its source, and was shocked by who he saw.

It was Mason. His mind could barely comprehend what he was seeing. Mason Thomas had been his best friend from kindergarten all the way up to the year he dropped out of high school. And now, he hates his guts. Six months before he dropped out, Neal had been driving home from a party with Mason, his little sister, Kara, and two of their friends, Josh and Emma. It was in the middle of a storm, and it was pouring rain. Somehow, Neal lost control of the car, and they ran off the road, flipping over in the process. Kara, Josh, and Emma all died in the accident. And ever since then, Mason has hated him. He swore he'd make Neal pay for what he did. Neal had never doubted him.

"Mason?" Neal just barely managed to choke the name out.

Mason chuckled. "Don't look so surprised, Neal. I told you I'd make you feel the same pain my parents and I did when you killed Kara."

"Mason, I didn't kill Kara. A car crash did. It was an accident," Neal attempted to reason with him. It had never worked before, but he thought he'd give it a shot.

"Well if you had listened to me and waited out the storm, she'd still be alive," Mason growled.

"Ok, you're right, I screwed up. But Jessica is just a little girl. She's only eight years old. She's not a part of this. It's between you and me."

"You see I don't think so. You made her a part of it when you killed my sister."

"Where is she, Mason?"

"She's alive, somewhere safe. Did you bring what I asked you to?"

"I don't know, where's my daughter?"

"Hand over the bag, first, Neal."

"No! Let me see my daughter!"

"Give me the bag, or I'll make sure she doesn't live to see the sun come up," Mason growled.

Neal paused, then sighed. He walked forward, then dropped the bag on a metal table that stood in between them. Then he backed up, his eyes burning with anger and frustration. Mason smiled and walked forward. Without even looking inside, he grabbed the bag with his left hand.

"See, that wasn't so hard," he smirked. Then he sighed. "Goodbye, Neal," he said. Then, with his right hand, he pulled a gun from behind his back and, with one lightning motion, squeezed the trigger twice. The bullets buried themselves in Neal's chest.

Neal's eyes widened in shock, and he took a step back, then slowly fell to the floor on his back. Suddenly, it was hard to breathe. He gasped for air, coughing up something warm and wet. Ignoring the pain, he brought a hand up to his face and touched his cheek. When he pulled away, his finger tips were stained red. Vaguely, he heard the back door open, then bang shut. A few agonizingly long seconds later, the front door burst open.

"FBI!" Someone shouted. Dozens of footsteps echoed in Neal's ears.

"Neal!" Peter suddenly appeared in Neal's field of vision. He kneeled down next to his friend. "Hang on, Neal, Jones already called an ambulance."

Neal wanted desperately to tell Peter to go look for Jessica, that it was Mason who had her, but he couldn't seem to make himself form words in between gasps for air and coughing up blood. Suddenly, his eyelids were really heavy. Sleep attempted to claim him, and he was too tired to put up much of a fight.

"No-no-no-no, Neal, keep your eyes open, ok? Keep them open. Don't you dare fall asleep," Peter urged.

Neal forced his eyes open. He could hear the ambulance outside. Help is here, he told himself. Just stay awake and you'll be ok.

But even as he thought that, he could feel himself letting go. He clung desperately to consciousness, until finally, he just couldn't anymore. He let go, and let himself fall into a deep, blissful sleep. For a while, he could hear Peter shouting his name, and then there was nothing at all...


	3. I Promise

Peter paced the floor of the waiting room. Neal was in surgery. He had been dead when the paramedics got to him, but they had managed to bring him back. The odds were stacked against him, but Peter just had to hope Neal was stubborn enough to hold out.

Jones came up behind Peter and made him jump. "How is he?" he asked.

"He's in surgery," Peter sighed. "It doesn't look good."

"Well, he was dead when they got there, he's not now. He's a fighter. He'll pull through," Jones assured him. Peter nodded. There was a pause. "Why don't you go home, Peter? You need some rest. I'll stay here and keep you updated. If anything happens, you'll be the first to know."

Peter sighed. "Thanks, Jones, but no. You don't have to stay. I gave Neal's doctor my card and told him to call if anything happened. You should get some rest, too."

Jones nodded. "Can I give you a ride home?" he asked. Peter smiled.

"Sure." With that, the two agents slowly left the hospital.

* * *

><p>At about seven in the morning, Peter's cell phone rang. He quickly picked up, "Agent Burke."<p>

"Hello, Agent Burke. This is Doctor Rhea, we spoke earlier," came a man's voice from the other end of the line.

Peter's heart skipped a beat. "Yes, of course. Any news?"

"Mr. Caffrey is out of surgery. We managed to repair his lung, and luckily the other bullet hit a rib and ricocheted away from his heart, so all we had to do was take care of some bleeding," Dr. Rhea said.

"So he's going to be ok?" Peter asked hesitantly, as if saying it out loud would jinx it. His wife, Elizabeth, looked up from the kitchen table. Neither one of them had slept well the night before, waiting for news about Neal.

"It's too soon to say for sure, but he is a fighter. It's definitely looking good," The doctor said optimistically. "We are cautiously optimistic."

Peter could feel a smile blooming on his face. Elizabeth saw it and smiled too, hopeful.

"Um, when can I talk to him?" Peter asked.

"Well," Rhea sighed, "He's pretty heavily sedated. It won't be for at least another couple hours."

"That's fine, um, why don't you give me a call when he wakes up," he offered. The doctor agreed and Peter hung up.

"So…?" Elizabeth prompted.

"He's out of surgery. Too soon to say for sure, but they say it's looking good," Peter grinned.

Elizabeth smiled and stood up, pulling her husband into a tight hug. Then she pulled away and gave him a kiss. "You should get to work," She said with a smile.

Peter smiled. "Alright. See you tonight, hun," he chuckled slightly. Elizabeth said goodbye as he left.

* * *

><p>When Peter walked off the elevator and through the glass doors that lay beyond it, Hughes, his boss, spotted him instantly. He stood up and left his office, standing at the railing of the hallway that overlooked the first level.<p>

"Burke!" he called. Peter stopped and looked at him. Instead of the classic two-finger point, he simply waved him over. He did the same thing to Jones and Diana.

Peter, Jones, and Diana jogged up the stairs to meet their boss outside his office. As soon as they were all there, Hughes turned to Peter.

"Any news on Caffery?" he asked.

Peter nodded. "He's out of surgery, and it's looking good. His doctor's going to call when he's awake, and then I'm going to go talk to him."

Hughes nodded. "Good. When you do, tell him not to worry about going back to prison. I'll take care of it." Peter nodded in appreciation. Hughes continued, "Now, does anyone know why the hell Neal was where he was, and more importantly why he got shot?"

"That's the problem, sir," Jones sighed. "It's Caffery. He has a lot of enemies, most of whom would like to see him dead. It's really slow going trying to narrow down the list."

"Then, Peter, you help with that. I've passed that other case on to another division, so don't worry about working on that. Let me know what you find," With that, Hughes retreated into his office.

Peter, Diana, and Jones made their way into a conference room, where there were files on every square inch of table space. They shared a group sigh, then quickly got to work.

They had barely made a dent when Peter's phone rang hours later. He was quick to answer it, "Agent Burke."

"Agent Burke, it's Dr. Rhea. I just called to tell you that Mr. Caffrey is awake and asking for you. But I just want to warn you, when you talk to him, do not get him upset. It will just be a bunch of unnecessary stress that he cannot take right now. He may also have some memory loss."

"Ok, I'm on my way. Thanks," Peter said, standing up. The doctor said a quick goodbye and they both hung up as Peter pulled on his jacket.

"Neal's awake," Peter explained as he walked toward the door. "I'll be back later."

* * *

><p>Peter arrived at the hospital in about thirty minutes, an impressive time with New York traffic. He fast-walked into the hospital and through the halls to the ICU, finally stopping outside Neal's room. He paused outside the door, then quietly pushed it open.<p>

Neal turned his head as Peter walked in. Peter stopped just inside the door. They were silent for about thirty seconds.

"You look like crap," Peter said finally.

Neal chuckled slightly, wincing in pain. "Yeah, I feel like it, too," he agreed. Peter grabbed a chair and pulled it over to Neal's bed, then sat down.

"So what did you need to tell me?" he asked.

Neal paused, not quite looking at him. "I lied to you, Peter," he said finally.

"Yeah, I know. You didn't hide it very well. You want to tell me the truth?"

Neal nodded and swallowed. "Jessica's missing. Somebody took her to get to me."

Peter was silent, processing the information. Finally, he leaned forward. "Who?"

"His name is Mason Thomas. He was my best friend."

"Some friend."

"I hadn't spoken to him since his sister died in a car accident…I was driving…He blames me."

"Were you drunk?"

"No."

"Was your judgment impaired in any way?"

"No."

"Then it wasn't your fault."

"I know, I know…but I can't help but think, maybe if I had listened to Mason and waited out the storm, then she'd be alive and Mason would still be my friend…" Neal shook his head.

Peter paused, then decided to ask more about it later. "Do you have any idea where Jessica is?" he asked.

"No…I thought he was going to tell me when I gave him the bag…but he just shot me instead…" Neal sighed, sitting up a little and wincing in pain.

"Do you have a cell phone number or anything?"

"Yeah, I memorized it, but I called it before you got here. It's off." Neal paused. "She's dead, isn't she, Peter?"

"No, I don't think so," Peter sighed.

"How do you know?"

"I don't, but I do know that there's a chance of finding her alive if we work fast, so I'm going to call Jones and tell him to track down your friend," he said, standing up, taking out his phone.

"Peter?" Neal stopped him in his tracks.

"Yeah?"

"Am I going back to prison?"

Peter smiled. "As nice as that sounds, no. Hughes took care of it."

Neal smiled weakly, then Peter stepped out of the room, calling Jones. About five minutes later, he walked back in.

"So?" Neal asked, nervous.

"Jones found out that your friend has a cabin outside the city. Diana's getting a warrant and then we're gonna go check it out," Peter explained as he shoved his phone back in his pocket.

"Ok, I'm coming with you," Neal said, sitting up, wincing in pain as he tried to stand up. Peter tensed as he heard the heart rate monitor next to Neal's bed started beeping faster. He stepped forward, gently grabbing Neal's shoulder, careful to avoid his injuries, and pushed him slowly back down to the bed, not letting him stand up.

"No, you're not," Peter said firmly. Neal looked at him, his eyes shining with a mix of desperation, determination, and betrayal.

"Yes, I am. My daughter might be there, so I'm going," Neal insisted, a twinge of anger in his voice.

"Neal, for the love of God, you just got shot!" Peter argued.

"Yeah, and the guy who did it holds a grudge and he has my daughter!" Neal growled, his voice growing louder.

"You can't possibly walk, Neal. And even if you could, if you took a step inside that place, you'd probably get killed!"

"And if I don't, odds are, she'd die anyway! I know Mason better than anybody. He was my best friend since kindergarten. I know how he thinks!"

"Obviously not, otherwise you wouldn't have gotten shot!"

"Well, not really. I kind of expected that, but it was just hopeful optimism that he would cooperate," Neal sighed.

"Neal, you're not going, and that's final," Peter said.

Neal fell silent, his eyes pained, frustrated and sad. He looked away from his friend and stared at the ceiling. Peter sighed.

"Look, Neal, if she's alive, I will find her and bring her back. I promise," Peter assured him. Neal didn't look at him, but he nodded anyway. Peter hesitated for a moment, then left, going to join his team.


	4. I Was Never Convicted of Art Theft

As soon as Peter was gone, Neal counted to ten in his head and pulled out all the needles in his arm, pulled all the electrodes off his chest, unclipped the heart rate monitor from his finger, took a deep breath, and stood up. As soon as he put his weight on his feet, he had to sit back down again, biting his tongue to keep from screaming in pain. He took another deep breath, the pain making his heart race. He stumbled to the closet. Mozzie had stopped by with some clothes earlier. He grabbed them from the top shelf of the closet and went into the bathroom and got dressed, a feat that took at least ten minutes. Once he was dressed, he slowly made his way out of the bathroom and grabbed the hospital phone from the side table, calling Sara.

"Hello?" Her voice was clear from the other end of the line.

"Sara, it's Neal," Neal said, his voice tense.

"Neal?" Sara asked, sounding confused. "What's going on?"

"Ok, look, long story short, I need a ride. Pick me up at the hospital. Feel free to speed. I'll explain everything later," Neal said hurriedly.

"The hospital? Why are you at the hospital?" Sara's voice rose an octave in concern.

"Sara, please just trust me. I need your help. Please," Neal pleaded.

Sara paused, noticing the desperation in his voice. Then she sighed, "I'm on my way. I'll be there in five minutes."

"Thank you," Neal breathed.

"You better tell me what this is all about," Sara cautioned.

"I will, I swear. See you soon," Neal said goodbye and hung up. He made his way to the door, took a deep breath, trying to ignore the impossible amount of pain in his chest, and stepped out into the hall.

Luckily, the hallway was empty, and, even more luckily, his room was only a short walk from the main door. He passed a total of four patient rooms before entering the lobby and stumbling out the front doors. Sara was waiting by the curb. Neal opened the passenger side door and collapsed into the seat, his face contorted in a look of utter pain. Then he closed the door behind him and reached for the car's GPS.

"Neal! Oh my God, what happened?" Sara asked, her concern evident.

"I'm ok," Neal assured her, typing in an address. He remembered the cabin Peter had mentioned. He went there with Mason every year for a week for summer vacation. It had belonged to his parents, and now, apparently, it was his. When he finished typing, he fell back against the seat, wincing in pain. "Go." he said simply. Sara hesitated. Neal turned to her. "Sara, please, I am begging you, get me to that address. Get me there fast. I can't even begin to tell you how important this is." Sara paused, then nodded, taking off.

* * *

><p>Despite the traffic, they managed to beat Peter and the FBI to the cabin, thanks to Sara's impressively creative driving. She came to a stop right outside the front door, and Neal swallowed, his heart racing. Then he turned to Sara. "Ok, Sara, as soon as I get out, I want you to go back towards the main road, and park somewhere off to the side of the road where your car can't be seen. I want you to stay there, ok? I don't care what you see or hear, stay there. I don't care if you see Peter in a space ship, do not leave that spot."<p>

"Neal, what is going on?" Sara asked, her voice shaking with fearful concern.

"Sara, please," Neal avoided the question, looking at Sara with eyes that were sparkling in the fading light of the setting sun. Finally, Sara nodded, giving in.

"Be careful," She said, not liking the desperate look in his eyes. Neal nodded and climbed out of the car, starting toward the cabin. As soon as he was out, Sara started back towards the main road, like she promised.

Neal peeked in the window to find Mason sitting on the couch in front of the TV, channel surfing. Neal ducked out of view and made his way around the house, leaning painfully on the wall for support, his legs giving out a few times, and even having to sit down all together for a few seconds. The only thing that made the pain worth it was reminding himself that Jessica could be inside. Every time he passed a window, he glanced inside, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jessica. After about the fifth window, he finally saw her.

She was in the corner of a small bedroom, almost hidden by the side table. Her hands and feet were tied, her mouth duct taped. Her eyes were red and puffy, like she had been crying. Her head was leaning against the wall, and her eyes were closed. She was asleep, but she looked alright. Neal breathed a sigh of relief, then slowly, painfully made his way back to the front door, stumbling and falling to his knees and doing everything in his power to stop himself from screaming in pain. His suit was getting muddy. Mason would have to pay the dry cleaning bill.

Finally, Neal made it back to the front door. Silently, he tried the door handle. His streak of luck from the hospital continued when he found it unlocked. He took a deep breath, then pushed it open, stepping inside.

Mason looked up in surprise. A smile bloomed on his face when he saw Neal.

"Neal," he said with a slight laugh as Neal pushed the door closed behind him and almost collapsed against it. "I gotta remember to lock my doors."

"Wouldn't have made much of a difference," Neal reminded him, breathing heavily.

"Right, I forgot. You're a convicted white collar thief," Mason chuckled. Neal was in too much pain to even think about correcting him. He had never been convicted of art theft. They were quiet for a couple seconds. "You just don't die, do you? You're like a frickin' cockroach," Mason said finally. He was still smiling, but his voice was almost acidic. Neal simply shrugged. He didn't have the energy to do anything else. "You know, you don't look too good, Neal," he said, standing up and walking over to him.

Neal took a couple stumbling steps back so his head was right in front of one of the windows before Mason caught him by the shoulder, his thumb squeezing the bullet wound he had made only half a day earlier. Neal doubled over, grunting in pain, his eyes squeezed shut. Finally, he forced himself to stand up straighter, though he was still bent forward slightly. He looked at Mason with pleading eyes. His old friend just smiled wolfishly.

* * *

><p>Outside, Peter, Jones, Diana, SWAT, and an ambulance had all arrived, ready to go, just as Mason reached Neal's side. As SWAT moved into position, Peter noticed Mason in the window.<p>

"Who is he talking to?" he wondered out loud. Jones and Diana followed his gaze to the window and watched as Neal stood back up, just enough for them to be able to see his head. Diana gasped.

"Oh my God," Jones muttered under his breath.

"Is that Neal?" Peter asked in shock. Jones and Diana both nodded, stunned.

* * *

><p>Back inside, Mason wasn't loosening his grip on Neal's shoulder, seeming to enjoy the pain he was in.<p>

"Mason, please," Neal began.

Mason interrupted him. "You know, Neal, I'm getting really sick," Mason tightened his grip on Neal's shoulder. Neal cried out in pain, doubling over and then falling to one knee, reflexively grabbing Mason's wrist, "of you not listening to me." At that moment, he glanced out the window and did a double take. He smiled and chuckled. "Oh, look, Neal," he grinned, once again tightening his grip on Neal's shoulder. Neal shouted in pain, falling to all fours, still gripping Mason's wrist as if his life depended on it. Tears were welling up in his eyes, "it's your friends from the FBI."

"Mason," Neal gasped pleadingly, trying not to scream again.

Mason got down to his level, grinning evilly at him. Neal looked up to meet his glare, breathing heavily, his jaw clenched. "Say hi, Neal," Mason laughed slightly. He stood up and took a step back, away from the window, so he was out of sight, dragging Neal up by his injured shoulder so it was only him who could be seen through the window. Neal cried out, a long, tortured cry, as he slowly got to his feet. Neal looked down at Mason's hand. His thumb and some of the cloth surrounding it was stained red with blood. His stitches had torn.

Neal looked out the window and locked eyes with Peter as a tear escaped the corner of his eye. His friend looked concerned, as well as disappointed. Neal felt a twinge of guilt, but pushed it away. He knew the risks going in. He had to go.

Mason pulled out his gun from behind his back with his free hand. "Let's go, Neal," He growled. Careful to avoid the windows, he walked out of the room and down the hall, dragging Neal with him. Neal almost collapsed more than once. They stopped in front of a door and Mason pulled it open, revealing a long staircase going down, into the cellar. Pushing Neal ahead of him, he made his way down the steps, closing the door behind him. They had just reached the floor when the door burst open and SWAT rushed in.

Mason shoved Neal into the wall. He cried out in pain. Mason smiled and quickly moved behind three unstable-looking stacks of wooden crates, each five high. Neal collapsed onto the floor, blood staining his shirt from his shoulder wound down, and his other wound had also sprung a leak. He was breathing heavily, getting really dizzy. He heard heavy boots upstairs. Different people called "Clear!" as they moved from room to room.

Just then, the door to the cellar opened, and a couple SWAT agents, followed closely by Peter, Diana, and Jones, started down the stairs. Moving quickly, Mason dashed over to Neal, grabbing his bad arm and yanking him to his feet. Neal cried out in pain. Mason used Neal as a shield, aiming the gun randomly at the two SWAT agents and three FBI agents that had formed a semi-circle of guns around them.

"Let him go, Mason," Peter growled. He didn't like how Neal was looking. His eyes were distant, though still alight with pain and tears. His skin was chalk-white and his shirt was soaked with blood. His breathing was rapid and shallow.

"Peter…" Neal said weakly. "Jessica…?"

"We got her, Neal, she's fine," Peter assured him. There was a twinge in his voice that made Neal hesitate. Then he gulped and nodded, wincing in pain. Peter turned his attention back to Mason. "Let him go, Mason," he repeated.

"No, I don't think I will, Peter," Mason grinned.

"Look around, Mason. You've got nowhere to go, and you've got five guns aimed at you. Do the math," Peter tried to reason with him. Neal looked like he could pass out at any moment.

"Well, if you shoot me, you'll have to go through your buddy here, and while that would be fine with me, I don't think you would do that," Mason smirked. Peter held his gun steady, but fell silent. He was right. Even though he was a pain in the ass, Neal was his friend. He couldn't shoot him.

"There's no way out," Peter repeated finally. "How do you think you're going to get out of here?"

Mason laughed, "I'm not." His words made Peter tense up. Suddenly, Mason shoved Neal into the crates with all his strength. His back slapped against the wood with a crash, and he screamed. Peter and the others opened fire, and Mason retaliated. Peter heard not just one, but both of the SWAT agents grunt in pain, and both stopped shooting. They weren't seriously hurt; they were wearing bullet-proof armor, but it still stung either way. During their fire fight, the crates Neal had been thrown into creaked. Neal was on the ground, propped up on one elbow. He looked at the crates, then looked at Peter, his eyes wide and fearful.

By that time, Jones, Diana, and Peter had all stopped firing, looking at the crates. Mason was on the ground. They had landed more than one shot on him. Then the FBI agents watched in terror as the towers wobbled, then toppled over. Neal didn't have the strength to get out of the way. Instinctively, he covered his head and neck with his good arm, lying on his side. Everyone turned and ducked as the heavy wooden crates tumbled onto Neal's already-damaged form.

There was a sickening crash. Before the dust even settled, Peter turned back to where he had last seen his friend. "Neal!" He shouted loudly. There was no answer. "Neal!"


	5. Mason

Peter stood up and ran forward, throwing pieces of broken crate out of the way. Finally he found Neal, face down on the concrete floor, his legs and part of his back buried under a crate. He wasn't moving.

"Oh, God," Peter muttered. "Neal!" his voice rose in volume as he scrambled around the crates and debris, until he was next to his friend. He dropped to one knee beside him, and held his hand an inch in front of his face. He paused, then let out a sigh of relief. He was still breathing. By that time, Jones had joined him. Peter stood up, locating the two SWAT agents. When he found them, he pointed at them. "Go get the paramedics!" Peter shouted. The two men nodded and ran up the stairs.

Jones and Peter exchanged glances, then, together, bent down, trying to lift the crate off of Neal's unconscious body. Diana stood behind them, waiting to pull Neal out. The crate was lighter than they thought. It would still hurt for it to fall on you, but it might not cause too much damage. Soon, Neal was free. Then Jones and Peter let the crate drop. On the ground, Neal's eyes opened slightly, and he groaned.

"Neal!" Peter sighed with relief as the paramedics thundered down the steps. "Just hold on, Neal. The paramedics are going to take good care of you."

Peter, Jones, and Diana were pushed out of the way as the paramedics strapped Neal to a stretcher, an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. Peter ran alongside him as they carried him up the stairs.

When they reached the top of the stairs, Neal glanced around in a daze. He let his head fall to the side. It was then that he saw her.

Jessica was on the floor, lying on her back, her eyes closed. The duct tape was gone from her mouth and her hands and feet had been freed. There were three paramedics surrounding her. One was squeezing a bag that was attached to a mask that covered the little girl's nose and mouth, helping her breathe. Another was performing chest compressions. The last was setting up a portable defibrillator. It was pretty obvious that, even with the glance he had of the scene, they would need it.

"Jessica?" Neal asked weakly, his voice muffled by the oxygen mask. The paramedics had stopped, trying to maneuver a tight corner, and she was still in his line of sight. Peter followed his gaze.

"Jessica!" Neal cried, suddenly struggling against the restraints on the stretcher, ignoring the pain that shot through his body.

"Neal!" Peter said, blocking his view of Jessica's unconscious form. "Stop! She's going to be fine!"

Neal stopped struggling and stared in the direction of the room, his eyes full of tears, breathing heavily. Suddenly, the edges of his vision began to go dark as they carried him on down the hall, away from his daughter. He felt numb, both emotionally and physically. His eyes started to close. The stretcher was stained a deep red, the bleeding getting worse and worse. The patch job on his lung appeared to be holding up, but the lacerations from the crate landing on him and the torn stitches from getting shot were not helping his case. His eyes rolled back in his head as he struggled to keep his eyes open. He could just barely see the roof of the ambulance as they loaded him inside.

The last thing he saw before his eyes fell shut was his partner, desperately urging him to hold on.

* * *

><p>Sara rushed into the hospital as fast as she could, just in time to see Neal disappear behind the double doors that led to the OR. Peter was just outside them, watching them go, worry evident in his expression. His hands and the sleeves of his suit were bloodstained, as was his shirt. Sara dashed over to him.<p>

"Peter!" She called, her eyes filling with tears. The FBI man turned to her. "What happened?" she asked, her voice high and shrill, tears escaping her eyes and flowing down her face.

"It's a long story. But basically, Neal got shot, snuck out of the hospital, tore his stitches, almost got shot again, and then almost got crushed when a ton of wooden crates fell on him," Peter said, his voice annoyed and almost angry. His eyes, however, told a different story. He tried to cover it up, but Sara could see it. Peter was scared for his partner's life, because this time, instead of getting better, he got continually gotten worse on the way to the hospital. Jessica had taken about two minutes to come back after the paramedics found her. Mason had given her sleeping pills in her milk in an attempt to kill her. He almost succeeded. They had gotten there just in time. It was still unclear if she was going to make it.

"Is he going to be ok?" Sara asked, guilt suddenly squeezing her heart. If she hadn't driven him to that cabin, then maybe…

"We don't know. He lost a lot of blood," Peter sighed. Sara sat down, her knees suddenly weak. She and Neal hadn't talked in days. There was so much she still wanted to say. And now she might not get the chance…

Hours passed. They heard nothing from the doctors. Then, finally, around two in the morning, a doctor approached them. They stood up in nervous anticipation.

"Agent Burke?" the doctor asked. Peter nodded.

"What happened?" Peter asked nervously.

"Well, it seems that Jessica was poisoned. Whoever took her put several seeping pills in some water and made her drink it. We were able to stabilize her, but not before she fell into a coma. I expect her to be able to come out of it, however. She's responding very well to her treatment," the doctor began.

"Good, that's…that's great," Peter said, and sighed. "What about Neal?"

The doctor sighed. "Your partner has fallen into a coma as well, but I'm not so sure about his chances of survival. Leaving the hospital, walking around, tearing his stitches, and having a crate fall on him put a lot of stress on his body. He severely fractured his arm, broke two ribs, fractured three, and mildly dislocated his knee. He went into cardiac arrest in the middle of surgery. We almost lost him for good this time. He's stable for now, but we don't know for sure."

Peter nodded stiffly, looking down at the ground. Sara had tears in her eyes.

"Can we see him?" Peter asked finally.

The doctor nodded and gave them directions to his room. Jessica's was right next door. Peter and Sara thanked him and swiftly walked down the hall. Finally, they reached Neal's room and walked through the open door. As soon as they did, they froze.

There were several cuts on Neal's face. His arms were wrapped in gauze. He looked like he lost a fight with a semi, and he was almost as pale as the crisp hospital sheets that covered most of his body. He looked almost dead, like he was barely hanging on. It was a total contrast to the Neal they knew, who always kept going, no matter what happened. He looked broken, both physically and emotionally shattered.

Sara took a step back, shocked. It felt like a hand was squeezing her heart. "Oh my God…" She whispered, putting a hand over her mouth. It hurt to see him that way. "I…I need some air…" she said finally, and quickly left the room.

Peter sighed and grabbed a chair from next to the door, picking up and setting it down next to Neal's bed, facing him. He was quiet for a moment.

"I heard that some coma patients can hear what's going on around them even though they're unconscious," he said softly. "I really hope you're one of them, or else I am going to feel really stupid," Peter chuckled slightly. "Jessica's alive, Neal. She made it. The doctor thinks she's going to be ok. Neal, she needs you. A lot of people need you, myself included. You're a pain in the ass, but without you I don't know how we'd solve so many cases. You really are the FBI's most valuable asset. You know that. And I never thought I'd say it, but you're one of my best friends. So I'm giving you an order to wake up and get better. I own you for four years, remember? That time is not up yet. You still have work to do," he continued. Then he sat back in his chair, falling silent, as Sara came back in. She grabbed another chair and set it up next to Peter. She sat down without a word, slipping her hand into Neal's, tears in her eyes…

* * *

><p><em>So tired…<em>

_I need to sleep…_

_Who's talking?_

_Is that Peter?_

_It is Peter…what is he saying…?_

"_Jessica's alive, Neal."_

_Jessica?_

_Thank God…I thought I lost her before I ever got to know her in the first place._

_What else is he saying?_

"…_I'm giving you an order to wake up and get better. I own you for four years, remember? That time is not up yet."_

_I know Peter…But I don't want to get up…_

_I just want to sleep…_

_Yeah, sleep is good…_

_Just sleep…_

* * *

><p>Peter slept terribly. He was too worried about Neal to stay asleep for too long. At about two in the morning, just half an hour after he left the hospital, and an hour after Neal got out of his two-hour long surgery, his phone rang. He was already awake, so he pounced on it.<p>

"Agent Burke," he said reflexively. Next to him, Elizabeth stirred and woke up.

"Honey, what is it?" she asked drowsily. Peter didn't answer.

"What do you mean, you couldn't find it?" Peter asked, his voice rising in volume.

Elizabeth sat up, flicking on the lamp on the table next to the bed.

"Well why the hell am I just hearing about this now? It's been four hours!" Peter shouted, his voice filled with anger.

"Peter, what's going on?" Elizabeth asked, growing concerned.

"That's impossible. I landed at least three shots on him. Diana, Jones, and the two SWAT agents all landed some, too. There's no way he survived. Unless he…" He paused. Then he nodded. "That has to be it…damn it…Ok, um…I'm on my way to the hospital. Have Jones and Diana meet me there in the morning. And have a protection detail meet me there too. I want an officer on Jessica and Neal's rooms at all times," He paused as the other man spoke. "Until I say otherwise!" Peter said loudly, annoyed, standing up. He hung up and turned back to Elizabeth, giving her a kiss.

"Honey what happened?" Elizabeth asked, wide awake.

"They couldn't find Mason Thomas' body. There was a door leading outside behind the crates that the agents missed. The exit was hidden by bushes outside, so nobody on the perimeter noticed it. The theory is, Mason was wearing a vest and escaped while we were preoccupied with Neal," Peter explained, getting dressed.

"Oh my God," Elizabeth began. Peter cut her off.

"It's ok, we're gonna find him," he assured her.

"Yeah but is that before or after he does something crazy?" El questioned.

"Before," Peter said firmly. He pulled on his suit jacket. "I'll be back later," he said, heading out.

El sighed, then clicked off the light, rolling over and trying to go back to sleep...


	6. Wake Up

Rebecca had arrived minutes after Peter and Sara left. She hadn't left her daughter's side since. Until now. Now she lowered herself into a chair next to Neal's bed, and wiped a tear from her eye.

"I don't know if you can hear me, Neal," she began. "But if you can…thank you…Jessica is alive because of you…and I am so sorry. If I hadn't gotten you involved, you wouldn't be in a coma right now. But she needs you, Neal. Please, you have to wake up. I can't have Jessica wake up only to find that her birthday wish is never going to come true. It would crush her. I would lose my little girl. Please, Neal…Please wake up," Rebecca urged, tears running down her face. She took his hand in hers and wiped her eyes, even as more tears rolled down her face. Then she jumped when someone cleared their throat in the doorway. She turned to find a man in a suit staring at her strangely.

"Uh, hi," the man said. "Would you mind me asking who you are?"

Rebecca smiled. "You must be Agent Burke," she said. Neal had told her all about him when they met up earlier in the week.

"Yes…and you are…?" Peter questioned, confused and suspicious.

Rebecca stood up and walked over to him, extending a hand. "I'm Rebecca. Rebecca Brooks," she said as she shook his hand. "I'm Jessica's mom."

Peter nodded. "Right…I'm glad she's gonna be ok," he said sincerely.

"Yeah, she's a fighter…Just like her father," Rebecca smiled, wiping away a tear that escaped from the corner of her eye. Peter smiled in agreement. They were quiet for a while. "Well, I'm just going to go back to Jessica," Rebecca said, nodding a goodbye and walking next door.

Peter watched her go, then waited for the protection detail to show up before finally settling down in a chair in Neal's room and getting some much-needed sleep…

The next few days were a blur. Jessica woke up the day after she was admitted and they kept her there for one more day just to keep an eye on her progress. She had lots of visitors in that time: friends, family, teachers, classmates, teammates, and concerned neighbors. She went home on the third day.

Peter, Jones, and Diana worked tirelessly, trying to find Mason, but it was as if he had dropped off the face of the Earth. They had no leads.

Neal had a few visitors: Mozzie, some other cons, Peter, El, Sara, Diana, Rebecca, Jessica, and Jones, mostly. Someone even sent him flowers. But after three days, he still showed no signs of waking up. The doctors had their doubts that he ever would. It was not the kind of news anyone wanted to hear.

It was day five of Neal's coma. There were still no signs of progress. As usual, a few people came and went throughout the day, until finally, it was night time. At around midnight, Peter came by. He had volunteered to take over the late shift of Neal's protection detail. As he sat in the chair, staring at his friend in the hospital bed with an oxygen mask over his face, he willed him to wake up. Guilt was eating him alive. If he had stayed with Neal that day, if he had followed him, if he had done something, then maybe none of this would have happened. Even though everyone told him there was nothing that could have been done, he couldn't help but feel like it was in some way his fault…

* * *

><p><em>I don't want to sleep anymore…<em>

_How long has it been?_

_I'm not sure, but it feels too long. I need to wake up._

_But I'm so tired…_

_I've never been this tired…_

_But I want to wake up…_

_I want to see Jessica…_

_Wake up…Come on, Neal, wake up…_

_Wake up…Wake UP!_

* * *

><p>Peter watched in amazement as Neal's eyes flickered, opening ever so slightly before closing again. His head rolled to the side and he squeezed his eyes shut and groaned slightly. Peter froze for a second, as if moving would make him wake up from a dream and send Neal back into his coma. Then he stood up and called for Neal's doctor. Rhea rushed in, then stared at Neal as he struggled to open his eyes, just as shocked and amazed as Peter. He recovered quickly and ran to Neal's side, just as he forced his eyes open.<p>

"Neal, can you hear me?" the doctor asked, taking out a little flashlight pen and shining it in each of Neal's eyes, causing him to close his eyes and groan, turning his head away from the light. Never the less, Neal answered his question with a nod.

Neal reached up and pulled the mask off his face. "Where am I?" He asked, his voice gravelly and weak.

Rhea put the mask back over Neal's nose and mouth before answering. "You're in the hospital. You're in bad shape, but it looks like you're going to be ok," he said, making some adjustments to the equipment surrounding him.

Neal pulled the mask off again, "What happened?"

"You were an idiot and went after Mason after I told you I'd take care of it and almost killed yourself," Peter said before the doctor could respond. His voice was criticizing, but it was obvious he was relieved his partner was ok.

"You broke two of your ribs, fractured three more, plus your arm, and dislocated your knee," the doctor added, starting Neal on some pain meds.

"Jessica…" Neal whispered, his memory coming back in pieces.

"What was that?" The doctor asked, unable to make out what he had said.

Neal swallowed, closing his eyes for a moment before half opening them again. "What happened to Jessica?" he asked louder.

"Jessica is fine, Neal. She went home with her mom two days ago," Peter said reassuringly. Neal nodded, looking relieved.

"You just get some rest, ok, Neal?" The doctor said, finishing the adjustments and putting the mask back over his face. "We'll talk in the morning."

Neal nodded and drifted back to sleep...

* * *

><p>The next morning, Neal woke up to find light streaming in through the window. He blinked at the harsh light, his vision coming into focus. The oxygen mask was gone, replaced with a nasal cannula.<p>

The room was empty. He turned his head toward the door to find it closed. Outside, he could see Peter, Rebecca, and Sara through the door's small window. It took them about thirty seconds to notice he was awake, and then they opened the door. As soon as they did, Jessica ran inside and over to him.

"Daddy!" she cried, wrapping him in a tight hug. Neal winced, the pain in his ribs excruciating, but hugged back anyway, too relived to see her alive to be bothered by a little pain. It was only then that he noticed the cast on his left arm. Finally, she pulled away, and Neal turned his attention to the others.

Aside from Peter, Sara, and Rebecca, Mozzie, Elizabeth, Diana, and Jones were also there.

"Hey, Neal," Sara said, doing her best to hold back tears. "Glad to see you awake."

"You had us worried there, for a minute," Elizabeth said with a slight giggle.

"Yeah, sorry about that," Neal said, suspicion in his voice. There was a look in El's eyes, a strange expression on Peter's face, that made him uneasy. Jones and Diana wouldn't look him in the eye. Rebecca was fidgeting. Mozzie seemed fascinated with something out the window. They were hiding something. "What's going on?"

They were all silent for a moment. Then Rebecca stepped forward. "Come on, sweetie," she said, holding her hand out to Jessica. "It's time to go to soccer practice."

Jessica looked defeated, then she hugged Neal again. He hugged her back tightly, so happy she was alive. Then she pulled away and went with her mother. Once they were gone, Neal turned back to the others.


	7. Far From Over

"Come on guys," he said, his voice a little desperate. "What aren't you telling me?"

The group exchanged glances, then turned to him. Peter sighed, taking a seat next to Neal's bed. He was silent for a moment, trying to find a way to tell him what had happened.

"Peter?" Neal prompted, growing anxious.

"They never found Mason's body, Neal. Mason escaped," Peter said finally.

Neal stared at him blankly. "No, that's impossible. I saw him. You guys shot him at least ten times," he said in disbelief.

Peter nodded. "We know. But there was a door behind the crates. It led outside. We think he was wearing a vest, and that while I was with you and Diana and Jones were helping clear the rest of the house, he got up and escaped though there."

Neal fell silent, trying to process the information he just received. "So he could come back…"

"We're not going to let him anywhere near you or Jessica, Neal," Diana assured him.

"We set up a protection detail. He's not going to do a thing to either one of you," Jones chimed in.

"Do you have any idea where he is?" Neal asked.

Peter sighed. "No. It's like he vanished into thin air." Seeing Neal's fear-filled eyes, he rushed to add, "But we've frozen all his assets, put out a B.O.L.O. on him, flagged his passport, set up road blocks…he's not getting out of this city."

Neal shifted his gaze to Mozzie. His friend took the cue. "I've asked around to all our forger friends. No one has made anything for him, no one has seen him. I'm working on getting a line on him, but like The Suit said, it's like he vanished into thin air."

Neal let his head fall back against the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He thought they were safe. But Mason was still out there, waiting.

The rest of the visit was short, everyone seeming a little desperate to get out of there. When they were gone, a wave of fatigue washed over Neal, and soon he was fast asleep.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Peter," Neal said when Peter picked up the phone. It was three weeks after he woke up in the hospital. He was home. He no longer had to wear a brace on his knee like he did when he first got out. His arm was still in a cast and sling, and there was gauze around his ribcage, stabilizing his broken and fractured ribs. "Are you busy today?"<p>

"No, why?" Peter replied. It was Saturday, and he was at home with his wife, enjoying the day.

"Well, Jessica has a soccer game today, and I promised I'd be there, but the field is outside my radius. Diana was going to take me, but she called and said she was sick, and Jones is at a wedding, so he can't take me either, so…" Neal trailed off. He didn't have to finish the sentence.

Peter paused and covered the phone's microphone with his hand. "You feel like going to a little girl's soccer game?" He asked Elizabeth.

"Whose? Jessica's?" She asked. She smiled when Peter nodded. "Sure! Sounds like fun," she agreed enthusiastically. Their dog, a big yellow lab named Satchmo, barked his approval as well.

Peter removed his hand from the microphone with a sigh. "Sure, Neal. We'll take you to the game," he said.

"Thank you, Peter. I owe you one," Neal said with a smile and a sigh of relief.

"Oh you owe me way more than that," Peter said.

"Ok, then I owe you one more," Neal rolled his eyes.

Peter chuckled. "We'll pick you up in half an hour," he said, standing up.

"Great, see you then. Bye."

"Bye," Peter said, and hung up.

* * *

><p>Neal sat in the bleachers next to Peter, Elizabeth, and Rebecca, watching and cheering as Jessica stole the ball and sprinted down the field, effortlessly bypassing the other team's defense, and kicking in a goal. Satchmo lay on the grass beside them, panting in the hot sun.<p>

Movement to his right caught Neal's eye, and he turned to see who it was. When he did, he saw, to his surprise and dread, Mason standing in the shade of a tree, watching him. Neal's heart skipped a beat or two. Instinct told him not to tell Peter. His partner was off-duty and didn't have his gun, and the protection detail had been called off because it was expensive and they "didn't have the man power" to keep it up. And what if Mason had a gun? He couldn't take that chance.

"Hey, I'll be right back, ok, guys?" Neal said, standing up. As he did, Mason ducked out of sight behind the tree.

"Where are you going?" Peter asked.

"I said I'll be right back, Peter," Neal said, stepping off the bleachers and heading towards the tree. Peter watched him for a while, then turned his attention back to the game.

Neal walked around the tree and faced the man who had tried to, and almost succeeded at, killing him and his daughter.

"Neal, it's good to see you! You look well," Mason said with his usual sarcastic and mildly threatening cheerfulness.

"What do you want, Mason?" Neal asked, his voice calm and even, despite his racing heart rate.

"Same thing I wanted before, Neal. I want you to feel what I felt when you killed my sister," Mason replied.

"Peter will catch you, you know. You're going to prison," Neal growled.

"I'm sure that's true," Mason agreed. "Agent Burke seems like a very competent agent. But the question is, will he catch me before or after I finally make you pay for what you did?"

Neal fell silent, and Mason smiled. "I'll see you around, Neal," he said. He turned and walked off, quickly melting into a crowd of people on another field.

Neal watched him go, his jaw clenched. After a moment, he turned and walked back over to the others.

"What was that about?" Peter asked, looking at him with a scrutinizing gaze.

Neal winced as he sat down, his ribs aching. "One of Mozzie's leads on Mason," he lied smoothly.

"And?" Peter asked, his eyes now curious.

"Nothing. Dead end," Neal sighed. The group fell silent, then let out a loud cheer as Jessica's team scored another goal…

* * *

><p>Elizabeth crawled into bed. It was around midnight, and she and Peter were both tired. Peter was in the bathroom, brushing his teeth. It was then that she noticed the picture.<p>

On the shelf above the dresser, where there used to be a picture of her and Peter on their honeymoon, there was now a picture of a teenage girl. She had long, thick light brown hair and sparkling green eyes. She looked happy, smiling at the camera. El got out of bed and went to pick up the picture.

"Peter?" she called, grabbing the picture from the shelf and examining it in her hands.

"Yeah?" Peter replied with a yawn as he came back into the room.

El showed him the picture. "Who's this?" she asked.

Peter looked puzzled. "I have no idea," he said, stepping forward and taking the photo as El handed it to him. He stared at it for a moment, then turned the frame over and took off the back, popping the picture out into his hand. He found a newspaper article taped to the back of it. Carefully, he took it off and read the headline:

**Three Teenagers Die in Tragic Car Accident**

The picture that accompanied the article showed the wreckage of a small car, flipped over and slammed into a tree. Peter instantly recalled what Neal had told him, that Mason hated him because his sister died in a car wreck when Neal was driving. He later told him that two other friends of theirs died in the crash as well. A quick scan of the article confirmed it, noticing Kara Thomas's name listed among the ones who died. He looked at the back of the photo and found something written on it. He turned on a lamp to read it better.

In the upper left hand corner, someone had written _Kara, 16 yrs._,and below that was a message:

**This Is Far From Over. –M**

The handwriting told him it was two different people.

Peter's heart skipped a beat as he turned the photo right-side up. Mason had been in his house. What if El had been home? He didn't want to think about what could have happened. Peter and El exchanged glances, then returned their shocked gazes back to the photo. It was about a minute before the shock wore off and Peter picked up his phone and called Hughes…


	8. Important

Hey guys! So, I've been seeing a lot of you adding this story to your story alerts. However, I've already completed this storyline. I just did it in another story. Since I'm tired of you guys adding this to your story alerts even though there's no update coming, I'm going to post links to all the stories related to this one.

#1 (which all of you have obviously read, since it's this one...):  
>.nets/7331150/1/Her_Fathers_Daughter

#2 (which not all of you have read, nescessarily):  
>.nets/7331199/1/Friends_Bring_Out_The_Best

#3:  
>.nets/7447135/1/False_Assumptions

#4:  
>.nets/7335465/1/Mechanical_Failure

I am also working on a fifth one. Keep an eye out for it!


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